Something in the Orange

Chapter Eleven

"All you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach / Don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash"

Arsonist's Lullabye - Hozier

With a blink of an eye January rolled into February which turned into March. Eight weeks, she had been back in Santo Padre and was still no closer to finding Miguel.

Normally this would fill her with anxiety, an overwhelming feeling of failure should be plaguing her, finding Miguel was the whole reason she came back.

'No it wasn't' a small voice echoes in the depths of her mind. Pushing it down, her mind wandering to a pair of gold flecked eyes. She had spent far too many long nights grappling with her feelings for Nestor. Everyday her heart defrosts a little more, a school girl crush blooming with each beat of her heart.

Her breakdown over Jose's journals was never mentioned, whenever she tried to apologize for how she reacted Nestor would cut her off with a glare that led her to stammer and stop talking. The only sign that something had happened was that Nestor had removed all of Jose's journals from their office, hiding them somewhere where she couldn't find. Telling her that he would be taking over reading them, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

Sighing, She stretches the kink out of her lower back, her legs numb from sitting on the floor, her laptop open on her coffee table. Various notes, scribbled post its and empty coffee mugs surround her.

"Hey" Nestor's voice hums from the doorway "you're up early"

Her eyes glance up, today he's wearing his regular dark jeans and black boots, but a white button down shirt molds to his chest. The cuffs rolled up to his elbows. Her breath catches as she admires the way he looks. His skin glowing in the early morning light, catching the flecks of gold in his eyes, bringing them to life. Internally groaning at how God-like he looks.

Her eyes fall to his hands, his calloused fingers adorned with rings, contains two coffee cups and a brown paper bag.

She offers him a tight smile as her fingers push her fringe off her forehead "that would have required me to go to sleep."

She winces as she looks down, taking in how awful she looks. Another one of Miguel''s ratty oversized t-shirts hides her frame, with an old pair of flannel pajama pants completing the look.

He chuckles strolling over to her, offering her a coffee cup before taking a seat in her favorite armchair.

"What's all this?" he asks, gesturing to the mess on the table in front of her. Opening the paper bag, he fishes out a pain au chocolat, handing it to her.

Moaning in delight, she wiggles in a happy dance as she takes a bite. Her appearance was quickly forgotten.

"It's my real job," she replies through bites "you know sleuth detective doesn't exactly pay the bills."

"Oh" he replies, not even cracking a smile at her stupid joke.

She hums in agreement, chewing on her croissant, she watches as he takes a bite of his own pastry, his face serious.

"How was your night?"

"Do you need to go back to Boston?" he asks at the same time.

She watches as his features morphe into apprehension, that familiar pain blooming in her chest. The thought of losing Nestor again, of having to go back to Boston. In the three months she had been here, she had slowly started to feel less lonely. She had started craving Nestor's presence, the tentative friendship they were building filled her with hope for the future. That hope crashing down around her.